


Burning candle

by Iomhair



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, So many cliches, Valery is having nightmares, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:48:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28682073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iomhair/pseuds/Iomhair
Summary: Valery wakes up from the bad dream and can't really get himself together. You see, winters are rough in Moscow. Snowy, stormy, they bring northern winds, remnants of hope and sorrows. But sometimes... sometimes they bring unexpected guests.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	Burning candle

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic a while ago. Actually, just when I just watched Chernobyl. It turned out way too personal, way too... vivid. And I could never finish it and post it. And now finally I did. 
> 
> All stories must have their soundtracks, and here is one for this fic, I used to listen to it for hours and hours: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYlzcXA3LxI
> 
> My huge thank you to Chernobyl fandom <3 You guys are absolute units. And of course, my massive gratitude and lots of love to @johnlockismyreligion <3
> 
> There is a quote here, "Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. As lightning strikes, as a Finnish knife strikes". If you recognized it - you just made me very happy. If not - it's Bulgakov.

* * *

_\- When the bullet hits your skull, what will it matter why?!_

The irritating sound of old clock breaks the silence, when Legasov opens his eyes. The distant voice of the man who sealed his fate a couple of months ago was still ringing in his ears and Valery wrinkled, trying to get rid of the remnants of the dream and to think of anything else, but not of this conversation. Seemed like that it happened an eternity ago, but in fact just a couple of months have passed.

Valery sighed, slowly getting up from the creaking bed. Now he thinks that this bullet would have been much more preferable. A mercy even. Anything apart of the agonizing silence, that was now inhabiting his apartment, covering it with the thousands of tiny webs, catching anything that would even resemble life.

Many months ago Legasov forbade himself to even think of this conversation. He did not want to replay it in the head over and over again, reflecting on his own words or actions, and, depending on the mood, either regretting them or swearing that he would have done the same if only he had this chance. The price to pay naturally turned way too high and death... death, as it turned out, was not scary at all. Now it seemed almost as a salvation, as a long-awaited escape from the shattered reality, where there was no place for the man like him.

_\- What role did Shcherbina play in this?_

_\- None. He didn't know what I was gonna say._

The old clocks were still ticking when Valery slowly walked to his table, opening the drawer. His fingers gently ran over a pile of neatly folded pieces of paper, touching them, almost caressing, as if being afraid to harm them even with the single touch. This was his habit lately: whenever things got way too unbearable, whenever Valery found himself almost ready to step over the invisible line that now seemed like a burden, he started writing letters to Boris. As excruciating as it was in the beginning, Valery caught himself on the thought that even relieving memories from Chernobyl helped a bit. Nothing would ever be the same, the silent goodbyes were painfully permanent, but with these letters it seemed like something that he could cope with just a bit longer. Enough so at least to say in the end that he had put up a good fight. 

The sparkle of fire from the lighter brightened up the room for a second, right before Valery took a pen from the drawer. He looked outside of the window, wrinkling when hearing the howling of autumn winds. For a brief second Valery allowed himself to think of one of the sunny days, so common in Chernobyl. It was strange – with age he started to forget so many things, but Chernobyl... almost every day that was spent there now seemed to be imprinted in Legasov’s memory, causing either a dull pain or a brief refuge.

Valery closed his eyes, squeezing the burning cigarette in the fingers.

_It was a July evening and they were sitting at the bank of the Pripyat river. Boris was smiling, laughing even, the bright sunset sun was dancing in his grey eyes, concealing every wrinkle on his face, somehow making him look younger. The sleeves of the white shirt were rolled up, the tie was loosened, he was openly bragging of once catching the biggest fish that anyone have ever saw, and all Valery wanted was just to kiss him._

_\- It’s beautiful..._

The wind outside was getting louder, as if trying to tear apart the shreds of Valery’s memories. Legasov smiled, taking the pen and the plain paper out of the drawer. He could almost feel the touch of the tender summer sun, the memories of Boris’ hand in his own, the quiet and oh, such risky exchange of whispers, the smell of grass and hay and the way his heart was beating in a rhythm of a single name.

_“Dear Borya...”_

Valery does not stop writing even when his fingers start hurting. It’s the weekend and he does not have to be anywhere. And the pile of student’s essays can definitely wait.

* * *

The next night Legasov can barely fall asleep. The dreams are no longer saving him from the crumbling world around, instead they became his enemies. He learned to fight them, he really did, but every night it seemed a bit more rough, as if every single nightmare was stealing pieces of his memories that kept him alive.

The warmth of the apartment seemed to turn into an unbearable heat. In his dream Valery was looking towards the black smoke of the exploded reactor, only now it was bigger, much bigger. It was way too late at this point, he won't be able to prevent the catastrophe, he won't even be able even to stop this damn helicopter. As if in slow motion Valery turns his head to look at Boris.

_\- Don’t use my name!_

They never talk in his dreams, and usually Valery does not mind as long as he sees the familiar face, but today he would prefer Boris to be far away, as far as possible from this hell pit. He can still live, he can still make it out, he does not need to sacrifice everything. He does not have to stay. He should not want to stay. Who in their right mind would even consider this as an option. Legasov yells at the pilot, asking to turn the helicopter away, but the pilot does not hear him. Valery closes his eyes and feels the inevitable turbulence. He can't make himself to look at Boris, even in his dreams he never dared to grant himself a false hope.

_\- Well... In a sense it would seem we’ve got enough easy then, Valery..._

Legasov wakes up, feeling the silent tears over his cheeks. He does not gasp for air, does not breathe frantically, he just opens his eyes, trying to understand why his room is so bright even at this early hour. He looks at the window and his heart skips a beat for a moment: is it... is it ash? Valery gets up immediately, rubbing the eyes under his glasses just to make sure that it's not a dream.

The ash seems to be everywhere now: it is falling from the skies, getting spread around with the strong wind, twisting into the shapes and tiny tornados, it seems to be a never ending flood, it's way too much even for an explosion, it's... snowing. It's actually snowing.

Valery sighs and hides the face in the shivering palms for a brief moment. Fucking snow. Of course it's snowing, it's already December, it should have happened weeks ago. The sound of clicking lighter comforts him a bit and the following inhale seem to soothe the nerves. Legasov smirks and steps away from the window, going to the kitchen. He tries to limit his alcohol consumption these days just so he could keep the mind straight and to hold on to all of the important memories while he still can. He does not want them to be blurry. He wants to remember it all.

This vodka is awful, frankly speaking. Valery wrinkles after a quick gulp, inhaling the smoke immediately. It helps a bit, in a while he feels that the tightened muscles are relaxing slowly, and he actually finds himself enjoying the falling snow that was covering the streets rapidly.

Valery never really liked winters. Dark and gloomy, somewhat even grim, they always came uncalled and unexpected, bringing cold winds and early darkness, changing the look of the people and places around him. The winters here were cruel. They seemed to be another level of punishment for a wretched nation, unfortunate enough to be born here, and broken enough to accept their fate without a single vocal complaint. Naïve to believe that the ravenous red star, grinning from the beautiful tower in the heart of Moscow, can grant the long-awaited guidance and protect them from all the horrors of this world.

Valery knew better. The red star did not care. Noone did. Noone would.

He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of all the people living around him, right in those apartments so close to his own, wondering if they even knew what happened last year in the tiny town of Chernobyl. And would they even care if they knew?..

Another shot of cold vodka burned his throat. The snowfall got stronger, and now Valery could barely see the street lamps outside. The lights here were different, way different than in Pripyat: they seemed cold and soulless, just like the snow itself that was surrounding them slowly, stealing every single glow and enhancing it, making the evening way too bright.

_Boris, I can't do this... I am sorry, I really am, it's just... Last months were so rough, you know. And I've never been as strong as you wanted me to be._

Stupid, so insanely stupid.

Valery knew Boris would not answer. He was not even there. But nevertheless Legasov liked to talk to him, to speak out his thoughts and his decisions, to get a reassuring in the form of a ghost of Boris' voice, telling him that it's going to be all right. Whenever he was about to burst into unexpected tears, whenever the slippery darkness loomed over his shoulder, whenever the nights seemed so painfully long, whenever Valery wanted to howl and scream into the emptiness, just so not to hear the sound of his own breathing.

Legasov missed him desperately. He never thought he would miss another human being that much. The pain of not seeing him seemed to be fathom, but in the same time real, so damn real.

Another shot, another cigarette. The never-ending pain of parting was getting doused slowly, but Valery's thoughts seemed to multiply, filling not only his head, but the whole apartment, spreading around with the horrendous speed, and taking illusionary shapes of the past memories.

Valery got up, slowly walking to the rack and putting on his coat and warm scarf. A little walk will do. Just so not to be in this apartment. He could not fall asleep even if he tried, not after another one of those dreams.

He walked outside, breathing in the fresh air and closing the eyes for a moment, feeling the first cold breathe of the imminent winter. The wind was not that strong as it seemed from his apartment. Everything was... almost perfectly still. So silent, so impossibly peaceful and clean, so different from the usual autumn dirt of the streets. Valery walked forward, touching the iron fence in front of the porch and gathering some snow into the palm. Not the ash, now he's certain. Too clean and way too fragile to be something man-made.

The hour was late and the street that was usually full of life and energy, was now empty. Legasov looked around, seeing the lit windows of the apartments, hearing the sound of someone laughing and talking, hearing the TV and radio. Those faint notes of sanity, of an ordinary existence, those distant sounds of a sincere happiness, inescapable proof of life. Valery would give anything just to welcome a glimpse of it in his own existence once again.

But instead he walked forward through the snow, passing the closed stores and eventually turning to a quiet street that led to the city center. His coat was already covered with snow at this point and Valery even had to shield the cigarette with his palm to not let it soak. He stopped for a moment, clicking the lighter and swearing quietly in a couple of seconds, realizing that the lighter is probably empty. Perfect, just perfect. Just what he needed, really.

Somewhere in a distance Legasov heard the sound of a car, stopping close by, followed by a faint slam of the door. Cars were not common at this hour, but Moscow never really slept, always providing the necessary cover of the dark night to those, who were ready to embrace it.

Legasov put the empty lighter away, checking his pockets now, finally getting what he was searching for - an old match box with only three matches left in it. He turned around, trying to cover the burning match from the wind, when suddenly realizing that he is not alone anymore on the empty street.

The heavy snow, although unbelievably calm now, was still obscuring the view and at first Valery simply refused to believe in what he was seeing, wondering if it's just something... or rather someone he wanted to see. The cruel extension of a horrible, dreadful dream. Seconds passed, his heart skipped a couple of beats and the match fell on the ground, immediately getting buried in the snow.

It can't be. Not here, not now. It's impossible. And yet...

\- Boris?..

Surrounded by snow and cold lights, barely making any sound like a true winter predator, Boris Shcherbina was walking towards him, getting more real with each and every step. Absolutely nothing, not a single movement, not even a distant shadow of the unfortunate prey would escape his cold grey eyes that seemed to absorb the winter around him. The snow shroud itself almost broke, making way for a much more dangerous competitor, letting him gracefully walk through without a single delay.

\- Valera.

Shcherbina smiled, slowly stepping forward to cut the distance between them, immediately taking Valery's hand with his own, covering it with both palms and shaking it slowly. And in that moment the world froze like the air around them, making Legasov lose all his words. As if in a dream, he slowly grabbed lapels of Boris' dark coat, feeling the warm rough fabric under the fingertips. Valery stared at his own hands, now desperately squeezing Boris' clothes, realizing that he is shivering and Boris probably already noticed it. He breathed in deeply, feeling the cold air filling the lungs, gently pressing the forehead against Boris' shoulder, not daring to look him in the eyes.

\- Let's go home, Valera.

Shcherbina was smiling, Valery could feel it. He has to make a move, he has to step back and finally release the almost desperate grab, but he just can't do it. One moment, one more moment, _please_.

" _He'll leave..._ " - Valery thinks. They all do, sooner or later. They forget, they grow up, they get their own lives, they pursue their dreams, their careers, they die, they just... they just never come back. Then why lie to yourself, why would he make it even harder than it already is, why even trying if their fate is already determined, if everything inside him screams that this is a horrible idea and it's going to hurt so much more later on. And Valery is not sure that he can handle any more pain. He is getting old rapidly, they both are, so why giving him the false hope only to take it back later on.

_Oh Boris, my dear, why would you do such a thing. You, of all of them..._

Legasov closes his eyes, feeling his cheeks are getting wet. Snow, it's this damn snow, what else could it be. Dear Lord, how hard is it to let go of him. How unthinkable hard is to look him in the eyes, to see the warm gaze and a smile. Boris is not a dream, that Legasov knows now for sure. His familiar scent of storms, coffee and cigarettes was now mixed with the smell of wet clothes, slowly dissolving into winter air.

Finally he releases his hands, nodding slowly, unable to hold a smile.

\- Come. I'll... I'll make us some tea.

\- Great. I started to think that we are spending the night on this street. I am not that young, Valera, you know that, right? - Boris carefully slaps Valery's shoulder, pulling him in the quick embrace while they were walking to the apartment door.

Legasov laughed carefully and caught his friend’s hand on the shoulder, squeezing it just for a moment.

They walk silently, hands barely touching each other, but the shared silence never bothered Valery. He knew that Boris felt the same. Back in Chernobyl they had to keep quiet of so many things, unspeakable things and dangerous thoughts, and eventually this necessity grew up into something very different, yet much stronger: an ability to understand each other even without words. Another cunning gift of a cursed place, so necessary in their reality.

Valery opened the door, holding it for Boris, and walking inside the house. He pushed a big lit button, waiting for an elevator. And in a minute an old elevator door made a creaking sound, letting both men step inside. Legasov took off the scarf, wiping off the snow, suddenly terrified of the thought that Shcherbina is actually coming home with him. He breathed in, closing the eyes for a second and trying to calm himself down. Nevertheless, his hands were shaking when he tried to insert the key into the keyhole, swearing quietly.

\- Let me... - Boris stepped forward, gently covering Valery's hand with his own, not taking the keys out of his hands, but instead steadying the cold fingers, leading them, and making the key eventually open the lock.

Legasov smiled. Such a small gesture, such a simple caress, but here he is, ready to gift the whole world to Boris just as a mere "thank you” for what he's done. Only he does not really have the whole world.

\- Come in, come in. Please, don't mind the mess, I... I haven't expected guests.

Valery closed the door quickly, taking off the coat and moving aside, making more space for his guest.

The next second they both heard a quiet "Meow". The cat woke up and was now observing the unfamiliar figure, not making any judgements yet, but being very careful around him.

\- Who's that? - Shcherbina smirked, undressing slowly, and then moving closer to the cat, trying to grab her under the belly.

\- That would be my cat, Murka. Careful, she does not take kindly to strangers.

\- Ah, like her owner, I presume? - Boris smiled, unsuccessfully trying to hold the cat, who was trying to snatch out of the grab and finally giving up, releasing her back to the dark room.

\- Well, sort of, yes, - Valery smiled, walking into the kitchen, immediately turning on the stove and pouring the cold water into the kettle, - Just give her time, she'll get used to you.

\- Right... You know, animals do tend to like me. Same as certain professors.

Boris walked into the small kitchen, looking around, seeing the bottle of vodka on the table, not saying anything, but instead immediately opening the drawers, looking for another glass. Legasov did not mind. It all seemed so surreal, yet somehow so very natural, as if Boris has already been in here many times, as if there were no those lonely months, as if they never parted.

\- Drinking alone, Valera? Dangerous habit. At least now you'll have a company, that can't be that bad, am I right?

Shcherbina smiles, pouring a bit of drink into the glasses and raising it immediately, waiting for Valery to do the same, like he sometimes used to do back in Chernobyl.

\- For old friends...

\- For old friends.

The toasts are followed by the sound of clanking glasses. Valery wrinkles a bit, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up.

\- For how long though?

\- What?

\- You said I'll have the company. For how long?..

Boris frowned, looking away now. He took out the pack of cigarettes, putting it on the table, automatically sharing its content with Legasov. He took one out of the pack, not rushing with the answer, obviously avoiding it, and instead inhaling the smoke, breathing out slowly.

\- I don't know, Valera. I really don't. I wish I knew.

Legasov sighs, taking off glasses and rubbing his eyes for a moment.

\- It's... it's way too dangerous for you to see me. You do know this, right? Of course you do, what am I talking about. What if they find out? What if they already know? We are not heroes anymore, Borya. At least not me. I've never been one, but now it's even worse. My life costs nothing, but yours... yours is still valuable. Kremlin won't dare to burry you that quickly.

 _"I can't let anything happen to you, not again, not after I doomed both of us, taking that damned call back in April," -_ a silent thought and an implacable fear, that Valery would never dare to say out loud, so not to make it vocal and therefore more real.

\- Don't care. I needed to see you, - Boris inhales the heavy smoke, pouring more alcohol in their glasses, looking across the table right into Valery's eyes, - I could not _not_ see you.

Legasov sighed and smiled. There he was, Boris Shcherbina, determined and ruthless as always. Nothing stands between him and his wishes, nothing dares to cast a shadow on his quest, even the fear of losing that tiny resemblance of peace that they've made with an enemy.

Valery really should not take this sacrifice. He should stop this right now before it's too late. He should say that now that they saw each other, it's probably best not to take risk like that ever again. But instead he moves their chairs closer together. To hell with precaution, to hell with his own fears, to hell with consequences. He slowly took Boris' hand into his own, touching his fingers and caressing his palm with the light strokes, as if asking permission for these touches.

\- God, Borya... you have no idea, I swear, you have no idea...

He probably sounded way too needy, but when did it ever matter. At least not with Boris, never with him. Legasov leaned forward, bowing the head and closing the eyes just for a second, still holding Boris' hand in his own, slowly leaning into his palm with the cheek, feeling its warmth and realizing that his eyes are wet. How many days was it?.. Thousands? Millions? He lost count. Day after day, dream after dream, followed by endless anxiety, fear and hopelessness. Thoughts and dreams tearing his heart to shreds, making him scream silently into the darkness. And now it was all gone, just like that, just with a single touch. How lucky he was, how incredibly, unbelievably lucky he was.

Valery allowed himself to cover Boris' hand with his own, closing the eyes and holding his breath. There was not a single sign of rejection. Shcherbina smiled lightly, now moving closer as well, pressing their foreheads together, and slowly stroking the other man's cheek.

\- I know, Valera. Me too.

The silence was interrupted by the whistle of a boiling kettle and Valery reluctantly moved back, still smiling, getting up and turning off the stove. Quickly making tea for both of them, he was trying to hide the fact that his hands were still shivering. Strong black tea, three spoons of sugar, a generous piece of lemon - Legasov still remembered how Boris liked his tea.

Dimmed lights were now creating cozy shadows, and even the snowstorm outside could not spoil this evening. They talked about everything, they laughed, remembering the last months, spent together. Surprisingly, even in a hell pit such as Chernobyl, life could always find a way. Despite constant danger and fear of death there was a place for jokes, good memories, there was always a _chance_ _of staying a human_ and now Valery was happy that both of them used that chance.

\- Damn it, sorry, I almost forgot… - suddenly Boris stood up, returning to the dark corridor and rummaging through the pockets of his coat, coming back with the small package and immediately placing it on the table in front of Valery.

\- It’s a... well... surprise, - Boris smiled, nodding towards the package.

\- Surprise? You mean like a present?

\- A present, yes. But really, Valera, it’s nothing, I’ve heard that it was finally published, and I already knew that I would see you, so thought that... maybe... you know... maybe you’ll like it. Ah, fuck it, just open it already.

Boris turned away, trying to hide his uncertainty in the faux hassle, getting more hot water for his tea.

Valery slowly took the package in hands. He did receive gifts quite often, even expensive ones. From students, their parents, his own colleagues – his position did have its benefits before Chernobyl. None of them were really personal – just a standard sort of bribe, wrapped in the socially accepted form of “gratitude”, so common in the State schools and universities. Cookies, alcohol, chocolate, tickets to sports events and Bolshoi Theatre with the very nice choice of seats – anything that would not be way too fancy, but rather an expected gesture, especially in the beginning of the academic year.

This... this was different, Valery already knew that. He gently removed the wrapping paper, trying not to tear it apart, being very careful with the package, as if it was made out of glass. And when the wrapping paper was removed, Legasov was staring at the uncovered book, sliding the fingers over the printed title.

_Boris Pasternak – Doctor Zhivago_.

The letters were fine and delicate, not like on the illegal copies Valery saw ten or even twenty years ago. Not even like the ones that would probably be available for everyone en masse. Books like this… they were impossible to find. Unless, well, you had some very important people that you could consider being friends with. The book itself had a perfect scent of the freshly printed pages, as if begging to be touched by someone, who would definitely appreciate the delicacy of such material. The font was nearly perfect, the quality was outstanding, and the book was edited almost without any flaw. 

-Where did you get it? Borya, is it even... allowed? – Valery made a step forward, now automatically switching to whisper, not even sure why was he doing that, - Did you really get it yourself? Christ...

Valery immediately leaned forward, running the hand through his hair, automatically grabbing a cigarette from the pack on a table, lighting it up and staring at Boris with the mixed expression of happiness, fear, disbelief and the undeniable excitement, making him look much younger than he was.

\- Relax, Valera. They’ve just released it to public, - Boris smirked, turning the head to see Valery’s reaction, - I made a few calls. This is a special copy. They saved one for me in the bookstore on Arbat. Not a problem, really. Although as I was told, it will be hard to get any copy of this book in a couple of days. Probably. Maybe, I don’t even know. Is it that good of a book?

Valery slowly turned pages, touching the letters while quickly inhaling the smoke. He read the story long time ago, when he was much younger and although Pasternak never became his absolute favourite author, something about his poems and his novels seemed... so personal, so heart-breaking and so real, especially now.

\- You know... he died because _they_ did not like this book. He was... discredited and disgraced. Exiled. Shamed publicly by every single writer, who was... somewhat significant. Noone listened to him. His works were nullified. His life was erased. This book was never meant to be published... - Valery dragged the smoke slowly, now raising his head and staring at Boris. The initial challenge that was written on Legasov’s face was now replaced by the sad acceptance, - Makes you wonder, how many more paid such a great price for their open confrontation with _them_. How many more have to lay their lives right before them? How many more had to sacrifice their future, denounce their talents, kill the hope of... daring to be happy. Just so that people could start seeing the glimpse of truth. And hopefully to teach them how to recognize it among every other lie. Makes you wonder if it’s... if it’s even worth it in the end.

Legasov finished his cigarette, leaving it in the ashtray. He smirked sadly, still gently going through the fragile pages of the book, stumbling on familiar paragraphs and quotes. He desperately wanted to read it again, and although he remembered the plot of the book, it barely mattered. Valery knew that the story would be perceived differently now. Back then he was thirty years old and considered love to be somewhat of an inconvenience, chemical reaction, easily maintained and easily doused. Now it all seemed different, now it seemed... painfully real.

\- It’s not. It never is, Valera.

Another cup of tea appeared right in front of Valery. He lifted his head, meeting the uncompromising gaze of grey eyes.

\- I never wanted you to meet the same destiny as... what‘s his name?.. Doesn‘t matter. But I always knew that you probably will. Right in that helicopter, when you told my pilot to turn away. _My_ pilot... Imagine that. Noone tells _my_ pilot to turn away, – Boris smiled, surprisingly warmly, now having a sit on a second chair, managing to take all the free space in the small kitchen, - I knew you‘d say something, you‘d do something, you‘d even _think_ something a bit more louder than you should have, and, well... end up in a very shitty place with the very shitty people, who would follow extremely shitty orders, ready to shoot you on command.

Boris quickly made a sip out of his cup, wrinkling a bit and taking a cigarette out of the pack.

\- We all make hard decisions. And then we drown them in alcohol. Again, and again, and again. Until there is nothing left to drink, until it doesn‘t... tear you from the inside. Just simple scratches, you tell yourself that. And then we all make compromises with our conscience. We try to forget, convince ourselves that it was something that had to be done... – Boris covered the face with the palms, rubbing it right before before lighting up his cigarette. He was tired, Legasov could see it. But not this tiredness, not his age, absolutely nothing could hide that familiar determination, an undeniable inner strength, the will to live and fight, that was seen through the warm gaze of his eyes.

\- You, however... you were never a compromise I‘d ever be willing to take, Valera.

Legasov smiled sadly. He slowly stretched his hand across the table, covering Shcherbina‘s fingers with his palm. The old clock were ticking somewhere in the living room and this sound now seemed way too sharp, way too loud, penetrating the silence in apartment. Only now he did not have to listen to it alone. This quietude surrounded them, hiding under the gentle touches of hands, the understanding looks, the unspoken words and the deeply buried grief, manifesting itself in the almost painful need to touch one another and never let go until the very end.

Suddenly Boris looked at his watch, moving an empty cup aside and smiling.

\- Not that I am tired of your company, but it's getting a bit late, Valera.

Legasov froze for a second, terrified of the thought that they will have to say their goodbyes in a couple of minutes. He thought of that moment, anticipated it to come, it's just... it happened way sooner than he expected. Time can be funny like that.

But before Legasov could fully process this thought and react accordingly, his heart has already made a decision, now literary putting the words into his mouth, once again without even thinking of consequences.

\- Please, stay.

Shcherbina stood up. For a moment they looked at each other, when suddenly Boris stepped forward and gently touched Valery's lips with his own.

\- I thought you'd never ask.

Legasov laughed quietly, feeling as if a heavy stone just fell off his shoulders. So Boris did plan to stay. Boris _wanted_ to stay.

They walked into his bedroom together, with Valery realizing that he has absolutely no idea what to do, looking at his bed, now completely occupied by the cat.

\- Right...

Boris walked in, taking off the jacket and loosening a tie, pulling it off slowly, now also staring at a cat.

-Valera, what the hell is this, how do you even sleep here?

\- I... really don't need much space. And a cat usually takes at least half of it, as you can see... It's fine, I really don't want to bother her. She... she'll be cranky if you move her.

Shcherbina shakes his head in disapproval. He walks towards the bed, taking a seat on the very corner and then starting to unbutton the shirt.

\- Ks-ks-ks... come one, move.

Cat yawned and opened one eye.

\- Come on, be reasonable, - Shcherbina tried to carefully move a sleeping animal, but Murka was way too busy purposely ignoring him.

\- Ks-ks! Murka! Have some respect.

The cat truly did not care whatsoever.

And Boris was clearly at a loss, admitting his defeat and now staring at Valery, as if looking for support.

\- Is that how it's going to be, Valera? What's next? She's going to sleep on my pillow?

Legasov laughed, stepping closer and carefully grabbing the cat, pulling her away and very gently relocating the animal on the sofa, scratching her behind the fluffy ear.

\- Are you telling me that a fearsome Boris Shcherbina is actually intimidated by a cat? - he smiled, now unbuttoning the shirt slowly.

\- Nonsense! I just never had a cat, I have no damn idea what to do with them, - Boris was undressing while talking and Valery could not help but stare at him, trying not to be too obvious though. He liked looking at him, he always did.

\- Well... Murka is a good sort. You'll like her. Maybe. At least give it a try, - Valery was really not sure in that, he did not even know if they see each other ever again after tonight, but even the tiny bits of hope will do to keep him sane for now.

Valery pulled out of the closet an extra pillow and a blanket. After a little uncertainty he put it on his own bed, watching Boris' face expression the same time. 

_"Are you sure?.."_

_"Always have been, Valera."_

And just like that Valery realized that he needed to touch him. Needed to kiss him. Needed to make sure it’s not a dream, that Boris was here, right in this apartment, that his hands were as perfect as before, that his voice was still breaking whenever he moaned Valery’s name. He stepped forward, but barely had any time to react, as Boris was already grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, finally covering his lips with the rough kiss. At this point Valery could barely stand, his head started spinning and the only thing he could do was just to seek Boris with every single touch.

\- Undress... please, oh please, I need to see you...

Valery whispered somewhere in Boris‘ neck, moaning and losing his breath immediately, trying to unbutton Boris‘ shirt, greedy for every single touch. He was getting hard very quickly, trying his best to be less impatient, but when did it ever work. Boris‘ name was already beating through his veins, through his heart, it echoed in his mind and this was the only thing he could whisper right now.

Despite the initial greed the first touch they shared was oddly... soothing. It's been long, way too long since both of them had an intimate moment, and yet it felt so incredibly right. Valery could hear Boris’ husky moan right before the gentle hands touched his face, removing the glasses, feeling the fingertips running over his cheeks.

Boris’ heartbeat seemed to be deafening, even if Valery felt it only through his palm, now placed on Shcherbina’s broad chest. His fingers moved closer to the buttons of the white shirt, undoing them quickly, one by one, and Legasov noticed his own hands trembling. He looked at Boris, ready to stop the second he would see a glimpse of doubt in his icy grey eyes.

There was, in fact, no doubt. And Valery was not sure what was more terrifying - to see him, Boris, suddenly changing his mind or actually staying here, with him, at this very moment, ready to keep going, ready for everything that inevitably comes next, ready to share whatever consequences that might happen to both of them. Ready to feel something else other than constant desperation, guilt and helplessness. Something far more greater than all those feelings that they were taught to accept naturally throughout all their lives.

Boris looked somewhat smug while slowly taking off his shirt, making the first move and looking at Valery with a slight smirk, as if daring him to do the same. Valery could not help, but to smile, seeing this.

_"Oh Borya... How many hearts have you broken before? Wasn't it not enough for you, my dear?.."_

Apparently it was not, otherwise they would not be here, and Valery's vest would not find its place on the floor.

Quiet, they both were supposed to stay quiet and to not break a sound, Valery knew that the walls in his apartment were quite thin. But what did it matter when Boris' lips were way too close to remain calm and his hands were not even trying to be discreet anymore.

" _This is madness_..." - Legasov thought. Beautiful, baneful, absolutely disastrous, clearly unforeseen madness. But dear God, that felt so good. He allowed himself to moan quietly, when Boris' hand touched his own, caressing his palm slowly, and eventually losing the pace, moving somewhere between their bodies. All he wanted was to be as close as it was only possible to this man, to feel him skin-to-skin, to shiver of his every single touch, losing control over himself again and again.

They made a couple of steps together, not even breaking a touch and falling on the bed together. Finally Valery could feel their bodies collide, finally he can rub against Boris, so desperate for the next touch, whimpering, trembling, silently asking for more.

And suddenly Valery froze, realizing that he just can't stop staring. He was breathing heavily, feeling his cheeks burning, getting lost in all the emotions and then having this moment of absolute clarity.

\- What? - Boris smiled, whispering, now being way too quiet and way too gentle, unlike his usual self, - Don't falter, Valera, you’ve already seen me nak-...

Valery kissed him before Boris could even finish. Lack of technique was replaced with plenty of enthusiasm and it was surprisingly enough for both of them. 

Boris has already taken initiative in his own hands, quickly removing off the remaining clothes from both of them and sliding a palm down Valery’s shoulder blades, kissing him fiercely. With the other hand he slowly took Valery's wrist, making his palm feel steady, making him feel how very much he wanted it to happen as well.

\- I know. I still remember… - Valery couldn't believe he was saying it, he knew he could not say it, clearly it was someone else’s hoarse voice, filled with the unmistakable desire, - I remembered every minute. Noone could take it away. Ever…

These words made Boris growl, roughly moving and pinning Valery into the old mattress, and the sound of the creaking old springs was drowned in his husky moan. Nothing existed in this moment, except both of them, except Boris’ warm lips, sliding over his open neck and his shoulders, covering Valery’s body with greedy kisses.

\- Please... - Valery moaned, breathing harshly into Boris' neck and caressing his body with the open palms, touching every single curve, every scar, every mark he remembered. They were impatient and most likely out of practice, which was a dangerous synthesis by itself, but it did not matter now. Valery was not even sure what he was begging for - anything would be good now, as long as it involved Boris.

Boris' wide palm covered his own hand, guiding him slowly but steadily, making them break an eye contact just for a split moment. He was leading Valery's palm right to his groin, when finally his fingers touched the hard cock, instinctively wrapping around it. Boris did not remove his hand, breathing harshly, gently caressing Valery’s hand, not saying anything, but being very forward in his desires. And after a couple of minutes of practice, smiles and held breaths, Valery was already catching the right rhythm, right as he remembered it to be.

Valery moaned quietly, lifting his hips, feeling Boris fingers touching him without a hesitation or uncertainty. That felt unbelievably good. His head was spinning, his body was almost burning and the very last crumbles of the unconscious shame shattered between them, dissolving under every single touch. Valery shifted, moving his palm higher, carefully waiting for Boris reaction, slowly touching the tender skin with the fingertips, smearing the wet all over it, and then letting the fingers slide down freely. Loud moan and immediate reaction was the best award he could possibly hope for.

Valery opened his eyes to look at Boris, absorbing his every single breath, his sharp gaze, his overbearing touches, terrified of the thought that in this moment, in this second, in this damned reality he loved that man more than anything else in the world. 

\- Valera... - soft gasp escapes Boris' lips as Valery's hand start to pick up pace, sliding up and down. They both move in the similar rhythm, and yet it is so different. Valery's touch was surprisingly impatient, desperate even. Boris' hands were teasing and demanding the same time, he was in no rush, he clearly enjoyed exploring every single reaction caused by his caresses. Boris was, in fact, in charge, even here in the bedroom, and he was not afraid to show it. Valery's heart skips a beat for a moment after a sudden realization: if he was just a bit younger, the exuberant raw power, radiating from this man, would probably be enough for him to make this night end much faster.

\- Fuck!.. - Valery swears, ready to lose all the remaining decency, arching shamelessly to meet the touch of the other man's hand. Boris shifted a bit, positioning himself differently and making Valery feel his weight. He was breathing heavily, the rhythm of the caress has changed and now their hands were interlacing with each other so it was hard to tell the difference between them. As if in a dream Valery embraced Boris, digging the fingers into his back, pressing him closer to the chest and immediately rubbing against him with all his body. Boris was heavy, but it did not matter at all. Nothing really mattered now except of the steady moves and harsh moans, shared between both of them. Flickering lights of the street lamps casted the faint shadows into the room, and now all of them were dancing in the Boris' steel eyes. Dear Lord, he looks gorgeous, Valery thought for a split second right before the silent scream.

\- Borya... Please!..

Boris' muffled moans were now louder. He bites his lips and then bites Valery's shoulder, suppressing the scream, stroking him much faster, while moving the hips in the same rhythm. They both are very close now and Valery does not know if he wants this to last even longer or to end right now. He looks at Boris, meeting his gaze and even now getting the support and encouragement that he always needed from him. Slick fingers slide up and down the oversensitive skin, the wet palms add much needed pressure and Valery's whole world suddenly shudders to million tiny pieces. There was nothing, absolutely nothing in this world except of them, sharing this moment, sharing these seconds, apologetically trying to silence each other's moans with the greedy kisses.

Boris gasps and makes a couple of slow thrusts, making them rub against each other, knowing very well how sensitive they both would be right now to a single touch. He swears, breathing heavily and does not move for a while, catching his breath and only then slowly turning on the back.

Valery smiled, trying to catch his breath while staring at the ceiling. They have not said a word to each other yet, but none of them needed it. Valery was actually surprised how did it happen that two man, so different one from another, learned to communicate without speaking in such a short period of time. He turned a bit, giving up to the unexpected tenderness, pressing the forehead into Boris' shoulder, touching his body, letting the fingers freely caress every inch of it. Being that close is more than enough. He is a bit afraid to look at Boris now: what if he is appalled by this moment of weakness, what if he... does not really need it. All of his doubts are crossed out with the gentle touch of the lips and reassuring caress. 

Boris does not hate him. Boris probably even likes him. Boris is right here with him, on this old creaking bed. Boris is smiling. 

Valery shifted, getting up to find his pants and taking out the pack of cigarettes. For some reason he never had an actual chance to smoke right after sex and now he was happy to share yet another first moment with someone else. He lightens the cigarette, inhaling slowly, and then passing it on to his friend, watching Boris moving lazily, like a huge predator right on his bed.

\- Thank you... - Boris inhales, breathing out the smoke and watching the smoke staying right under the ceiling before dissolving, - Given my age... that was actually much better than I anticipated.

Legasov laughs, shifting and touching his shoulder, stroking it gently.

\- You laugh, Valera, but wait till you get there, - Boris is passing the cigarette back, smiling, - We'll see what you're going to say then.

Legasov smiles in return. Worth it. God damn it, that was so fucking worth it, if it made Boris forget that he, Valery, actually won't get to this age. Not that it matters now, not anymore.

He turns on a side, leaning on the elbow and letting the head rest on his palm. Boris takes the cigarette out of Valery's fingers, making a quick inhale.

\- So what are we going to do about it, Valera? Tell me you have a plan. Because you always have a fucking plan, - Boris is mostly joking, but he is actually right, any sort of plan would be nice to have now.

\- No. Nothing like that. Not this time, - Legasov shakes his head slowly and then lets himself move a bit closer, taking the cigarette from Boris, while using this opportunity to caress him very gently.

\- I see... Well that's a bit unfortunate.

\- It most certainly is.

Boris's eyes are smiling and Legasov can't hold a quiet laugh. He leans forward, gently touching the soft lips with his own, feeling the scent of tobacco and alcohol. They both are not young anymore, but this shared passion have nothing to do with the impatient impulses of youth. It's something entirely different, something, that Valery can't quite explain yet, and quite frankly, he does not even want to. He pulls an ashtray from the bedside table, getting up and almost falling back clumsily, feeling a bit dizzy and now watching Boris from above. His cigarette is almost the only source of light in the room, and if not for the lamps outside the windows, it would have been very dark here.

\- I don't want you to leave, - not a question, not a desperate plea, but an actual fact, - Borya... Do you think it makes me a bad person?.. A disgrace? A criminal, for God's sake?

Boris looks at him for a second, before standing up. Once again he takes a cigarette out of Valery's hands, inhaling what was left of it, then making a step forward.

\- Look at me. Look at me, Valera... - not an order, not a request, but something far more gentle, which is actually very unusual for Boris.

\- No. It does not, - he shakes his head slowly, stepping back and putting the cigarette into an ashtray.

Legasov smiled. One night, just one night - he told to himself. And then they will figure out what to do next.

Slowly they settled on the bed together, laying so to face each other. It was not a big bed, but surprisingly there was enough space for both of them. Shcherbina smiled, lifting himself up on the elbows, carefully taking off Valery's glasses and putting them on a bedside table.

\- Much better. Thank you, - Valery smiled, being almost scared to move so not to break this moment. Had they been younger, this night would have definitely continued and would have probably turned into an early morning. But they were not and this... this was perfect. Boris was here, Boris was so unbelievably close, Boris existed. He was right here right now, not in a dream, and not in an imagination. He seemed... happy. And that was all that mattered, honestly.

Valery shifted slowly, moving closer to another man and touching his forehead with the gentle kiss.

\- Rest, - he whispered almost soundless, gently sliding the fingers through the grey hair. Then he carefully turned on the back, letting Boris' head slide on his shoulder, when suddenly feeling his own heart almost racing out of the chest because of the unexpected feeling of a painful tenderness. Legasov sighed, closing the eyes and allowing himself to smile. Despite the bittersweet pain, despite the constant fear of losing what he had, despite the forgotten feeling of guilt, he simply could not help but savour the warm sensation of something that he had already deemed as love long time ago, back in Chernobyl. Madness, insanity, absolute disaster. But what did it matter when Boris' was right here, sleeping on his shoulder. 

_Love leaped out in front of us like a murderer in an alley leaping out of nowhere, and struck us both at once. As lightning strikes, as a Finnish knife strikes..._

For the first time in many days, Valery fell asleep happy.


End file.
